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Treading the Rhetorical Minefield
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cider
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I'm just your average New Yorker. A guy who thinks he can do more than he ought.
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I smell a collab
Serge was quiet while Sarel and Sharee bickered over the bandits. He agreed with his Elf friend about it, but he didn’t see any reason to argue about it. And, it seemed, neither did Sarel, because he stayed quiet after Sharee said her piece.
The group made their way down and Sarel cast a water walking spell on Serge so he would be able to get on the docks and not need to swim, his armor was impossible to maneuver in underwater. Serge moved slowly, as to not disturb the water as he moved. When the attack was launched, and his chameleon wore off, he charged onto the dock and passed Sharee. Malakaus took the one nearest Sharee, so Serge continued past him as well. Sarel climbed aboard the dock and ran along with Serge toward the small group clustered at the entrance. Two of the men picked up their shields from the ground and brandished their axes, both Khajitt. Sarel and Serge worked in tandem on these two. Serge started the encounter with a strong overhead strike, the Khajiit on the left took the hit with his shield and fell to the ground. Sarel pushed the one to the right, which had a mind of attacking Serge, with his telekinesis spell into his friends behind him. Sarel continued forward, behind the Khajiit who had to deal with Serge, to another Khajiit who seemed to be using daggers. He flicked a couple of his metal pieces at the Dunmer but Sarel was fast enough to deflect them with his katana and wakizashi, which he had brandished in both his hands. Once up close he ended the dagger-thrower with a double slice which rent his head from his body.
Serge was busy blocking axe strikes from a ferocious Khajiit as Sarel made his deathblow. Serge caught the edges of the axe along the rim of his long sword and pulled it up, ripping the weapon from the bandits hand. He tossed the axe to the side and swiped at the Khajiit, who blocked with his shield. Serge delivered another earth shattering blow to the shield, pushed his armored frame on the Khajiit, who fell from the impact, and then delivered a coup de grace to the beast’s heart. Sarel narrowly deflected an incoming arrow from a far off Bosmer and then dodged several axe swipes from the Khajiit he’d blasted earlier. Once in the clear he doused the Khajiit in fire. The Cat-man blocked the flames with his shield as best he could. This left Sarel open, but he saw Malakaus charging toward the crowd of oncoming bandits so he had no qualms. Serge joined Malakaus in the charge as they collided with another pair of bandits; one with a saber, the other with a lance.
The group made their way down and Sarel cast a water walking spell on Serge so he would be able to get on the docks and not need to swim, his armor was impossible to maneuver in underwater. Serge moved slowly, as to not disturb the water as he moved. When the attack was launched, and his chameleon wore off, he charged onto the dock and passed Sharee. Malakaus took the one nearest Sharee, so Serge continued past him as well. Sarel climbed aboard the dock and ran along with Serge toward the small group clustered at the entrance. Two of the men picked up their shields from the ground and brandished their axes, both Khajitt. Sarel and Serge worked in tandem on these two. Serge started the encounter with a strong overhead strike, the Khajiit on the left took the hit with his shield and fell to the ground. Sarel pushed the one to the right, which had a mind of attacking Serge, with his telekinesis spell into his friends behind him. Sarel continued forward, behind the Khajiit who had to deal with Serge, to another Khajiit who seemed to be using daggers. He flicked a couple of his metal pieces at the Dunmer but Sarel was fast enough to deflect them with his katana and wakizashi, which he had brandished in both his hands. Once up close he ended the dagger-thrower with a double slice which rent his head from his body.
Serge was busy blocking axe strikes from a ferocious Khajiit as Sarel made his deathblow. Serge caught the edges of the axe along the rim of his long sword and pulled it up, ripping the weapon from the bandits hand. He tossed the axe to the side and swiped at the Khajiit, who blocked with his shield. Serge delivered another earth shattering blow to the shield, pushed his armored frame on the Khajiit, who fell from the impact, and then delivered a coup de grace to the beast’s heart. Sarel narrowly deflected an incoming arrow from a far off Bosmer and then dodged several axe swipes from the Khajiit he’d blasted earlier. Once in the clear he doused the Khajiit in fire. The Cat-man blocked the flames with his shield as best he could. This left Sarel open, but he saw Malakaus charging toward the crowd of oncoming bandits so he had no qualms. Serge joined Malakaus in the charge as they collided with another pair of bandits; one with a saber, the other with a lance.
As the sun laid its head to rest, the ever-present moon had just begun pressing itself against the firmament. That canvased dome offered a kaleidoscope of colors as the flames of the sun seemed to stretch across the sky. The first of many tiny, twinkling orbs had appeared, and soon, the world would be awash in the thick darkness of night.
Emilio made Epu, the Incan hunter turned explorer, his weaponsmaster. He was to keep a careful eye on the gun room and the ring of keys he inherited. Epu was a master tracker and an expert in everything subterfuge; no one would get to the expensive, rare, weaponry they had aboard while Epu still drew breath, Emilio knew that. Comstock was a fierce swordsman with reputable experience. He was also a brilliant navyman and marine, Emilio knew that. In fact, the Dread pirate was, undoubtedly, happy to have such trusted men with him for this adventure. This was the sort of journey from which sprung life-changing events, and which carefully veiled unpredictable dilemmas. Having devoted friends, with seemingly inhuman skills, was an advantage not worth giving up in such situations. That perhaps was Emilio’s greatest strength, his uncanny ability to sniff out talented people, and use them to their greatest potential. No matter how selfish this skill was, it was invaluable in not only protecting himself, but everyone else on-board, as well. This was the very definition of a great leader.
The Burned Bitch was ready to set sail. All resources were as secure as could be, most positions were assigned, and everyone seemed comfortable with the look newly sanded wood, and feel of the gentle rocking of the sturdy vessel. Luna was standing aboard but close enough to the docking ramp to leave any moment. When he eyed Emilio he waved him over. The Dread captain gently pushed his way through the bustling crowd, which had grown since word of the departure had spread, and to the snobbish nobleman.
“Yes, Lordling Luna, what can I do for you before you prance off my ship?”
“I won’t indulge your disrespect, Cicatrise,” Luna responded coldly, and in a hushed tone; a pitch which seemed to mingle with the washing waves underfoot. “I trust you understand your mission. I trust you understand your culpability.”
“Trust me, Ceasar,” Emilio began, in a quiet voice which was too unprofessionally casual for Luna’s liking. “I am fully culpable, and utterly indulged by my crew. Your supervision is no longer required.”
“Yes,” Luna eyed the growing crowed with a complacent smugness, “even so, you’ll notice, sooner or later, that I have an agent implanted here. Don’t bother discarding her, she is a present from the papacy.” Those last words, which Luna spoke with such distain and venom that it was nearly palpable, struck Emilio dumb. He could not believe that scoundrels like Luna, even as dimly as he has thus displayed, were also involved in this mystical plot. How was this kept from the common folk? How far did it go?
Emilio gulped the lump which had formed in his throat and nodded, his exterior remaining composed. “Very well then, I’ll see to it that my mission is carried out. But rest assured, Luna, I will find your agent…”
Luna interrupted, “Of that I’m sure…”
Emilio, feeling disgraced, grabbed at Luna’s hip, drove his thumb into his skinny bone and pushed him against the railing. Luna gasped in pain, stared at Emilio wild eyed.
“And if she tries to sabotage me in any way, I will kill her. Whether she be mystical or otherwise. And if I learn it has anything to do with you, I will see to your disemboweling personally.” Emilio let loose of the frail nobleman’s frame, stepped back. A table was next to him, a crate had just been set upon it. It was filled with bottles of wine. Not the usual ceremonial drink for such an occasion but Emilio felt the rush of his own bravado, Luna would fear him. He grabbed one by the neck and walked closer to Luna and the railing. “You should tell the Alcalde that he may have me by the balls for now, but things change after an adventure like this. I may come back a changed man.” Emilio smashed the bottle about a foot from Luna’s face, against the rail behind him. His face was undamaged but glass got all over his clothes and it frightened him half to death. Emilio chuckled as he faced the crowed, whose attention he’d gained since smashing the bottle. “The Bitch is setting sail!” He yelled above the crowd. Some gave some hoot’s and hollers. Leonard Comstock had made himself the boatswain, with Emilio’s blessing, so he began giving orders. Raise the anchor, cast the sails, all hands on deck and all that. Once the anchor was aweigh and the wind lifted the boat into the ocean, Emilio truly felt the freedom he’d been hoping for. He looked back to see Luna’s thin frame set along the crowd behind him waving at the departing vessel. Emilio disregarded any thoughts he began having about the man, what was he really capable of?
The ship tore along the blue green water and cast along the stony pillars of the cliff to the east. Sintra palace shrunk in the distance as the strong winds carried them out of the small alcove, away from praia das maçãs, and finally into the Atlantic. The sky was turning a dark purple now so Emilio ordered a cabin boy to light some torches and lamps. Emilio had made sure that for the departure there would be fruit and bread along with some wine in order to raise moral; to allow people to eat, and drink, and be merry, for a while at least. Soon they’d have to start rationing more, but Emilio was lucky enough to convince the powers that be to give him extra supplies; particularly on account of him and his crew most likely risking their lives. Emilio went to fetch a tangerine along with a roll. He ripped the tangerine apart with a dagger he kept in his boot and began eating it. He watched some men play a card game, one with which he was not totally familiar, as the boat finally began the journey toward Morocco.
Emilio made Epu, the Incan hunter turned explorer, his weaponsmaster. He was to keep a careful eye on the gun room and the ring of keys he inherited. Epu was a master tracker and an expert in everything subterfuge; no one would get to the expensive, rare, weaponry they had aboard while Epu still drew breath, Emilio knew that. Comstock was a fierce swordsman with reputable experience. He was also a brilliant navyman and marine, Emilio knew that. In fact, the Dread pirate was, undoubtedly, happy to have such trusted men with him for this adventure. This was the sort of journey from which sprung life-changing events, and which carefully veiled unpredictable dilemmas. Having devoted friends, with seemingly inhuman skills, was an advantage not worth giving up in such situations. That perhaps was Emilio’s greatest strength, his uncanny ability to sniff out talented people, and use them to their greatest potential. No matter how selfish this skill was, it was invaluable in not only protecting himself, but everyone else on-board, as well. This was the very definition of a great leader.
The Burned Bitch was ready to set sail. All resources were as secure as could be, most positions were assigned, and everyone seemed comfortable with the look newly sanded wood, and feel of the gentle rocking of the sturdy vessel. Luna was standing aboard but close enough to the docking ramp to leave any moment. When he eyed Emilio he waved him over. The Dread captain gently pushed his way through the bustling crowd, which had grown since word of the departure had spread, and to the snobbish nobleman.
“Yes, Lordling Luna, what can I do for you before you prance off my ship?”
“I won’t indulge your disrespect, Cicatrise,” Luna responded coldly, and in a hushed tone; a pitch which seemed to mingle with the washing waves underfoot. “I trust you understand your mission. I trust you understand your culpability.”
“Trust me, Ceasar,” Emilio began, in a quiet voice which was too unprofessionally casual for Luna’s liking. “I am fully culpable, and utterly indulged by my crew. Your supervision is no longer required.”
“Yes,” Luna eyed the growing crowed with a complacent smugness, “even so, you’ll notice, sooner or later, that I have an agent implanted here. Don’t bother discarding her, she is a present from the papacy.” Those last words, which Luna spoke with such distain and venom that it was nearly palpable, struck Emilio dumb. He could not believe that scoundrels like Luna, even as dimly as he has thus displayed, were also involved in this mystical plot. How was this kept from the common folk? How far did it go?
Emilio gulped the lump which had formed in his throat and nodded, his exterior remaining composed. “Very well then, I’ll see to it that my mission is carried out. But rest assured, Luna, I will find your agent…”
Luna interrupted, “Of that I’m sure…”
Emilio, feeling disgraced, grabbed at Luna’s hip, drove his thumb into his skinny bone and pushed him against the railing. Luna gasped in pain, stared at Emilio wild eyed.
“And if she tries to sabotage me in any way, I will kill her. Whether she be mystical or otherwise. And if I learn it has anything to do with you, I will see to your disemboweling personally.” Emilio let loose of the frail nobleman’s frame, stepped back. A table was next to him, a crate had just been set upon it. It was filled with bottles of wine. Not the usual ceremonial drink for such an occasion but Emilio felt the rush of his own bravado, Luna would fear him. He grabbed one by the neck and walked closer to Luna and the railing. “You should tell the Alcalde that he may have me by the balls for now, but things change after an adventure like this. I may come back a changed man.” Emilio smashed the bottle about a foot from Luna’s face, against the rail behind him. His face was undamaged but glass got all over his clothes and it frightened him half to death. Emilio chuckled as he faced the crowed, whose attention he’d gained since smashing the bottle. “The Bitch is setting sail!” He yelled above the crowd. Some gave some hoot’s and hollers. Leonard Comstock had made himself the boatswain, with Emilio’s blessing, so he began giving orders. Raise the anchor, cast the sails, all hands on deck and all that. Once the anchor was aweigh and the wind lifted the boat into the ocean, Emilio truly felt the freedom he’d been hoping for. He looked back to see Luna’s thin frame set along the crowd behind him waving at the departing vessel. Emilio disregarded any thoughts he began having about the man, what was he really capable of?
The ship tore along the blue green water and cast along the stony pillars of the cliff to the east. Sintra palace shrunk in the distance as the strong winds carried them out of the small alcove, away from praia das maçãs, and finally into the Atlantic. The sky was turning a dark purple now so Emilio ordered a cabin boy to light some torches and lamps. Emilio had made sure that for the departure there would be fruit and bread along with some wine in order to raise moral; to allow people to eat, and drink, and be merry, for a while at least. Soon they’d have to start rationing more, but Emilio was lucky enough to convince the powers that be to give him extra supplies; particularly on account of him and his crew most likely risking their lives. Emilio went to fetch a tangerine along with a roll. He ripped the tangerine apart with a dagger he kept in his boot and began eating it. He watched some men play a card game, one with which he was not totally familiar, as the boat finally began the journey toward Morocco.
Great post, Yorg. It actually inspired me to finish my post, it should be up soon.
Juice, I have no problem with you continuing here. I'd like it if you remained in contact with me from here out concerning any absences you may have in the future. Other than that, It's good to see you back. Feel free to start something in Titan Pad after I post the next part of the story. Or you can write on your own, obviously.
Juice, I have no problem with you continuing here. I'd like it if you remained in contact with me from here out concerning any absences you may have in the future. Other than that, It's good to see you back. Feel free to start something in Titan Pad after I post the next part of the story. Or you can write on your own, obviously.
Indeed.
EDIT: Unexpected difficulties will delay this until tomorrow.
EDIT: Unexpected difficulties will delay this until tomorrow.
EliteCommander said
Not sure I understand your pet peeves, but at any rate, I should be able to post soon.
Yeah, I guess what I actually wanted was for you to move us along, toward the action. I'll make sure to voice that next time.
Sure. I'll see if I can get something written over the weekend. It's a really busy few days ahead since I'm planning a big move. I will definitely post by Tuesday, at the latest.
I think I might actually wait. I have a pet peeve about bunching up my posts and I don't necessarily need to post right now.
Nice post, cider. We'll be on the open sea soon.
Lucius Cypher said
You might not want anything to do with us, but that doesn't mean Sarel needs to reflect that. Surely even he would have some tactical sense. The Bandit's single entrance makes it much easier for them to survive an attack for the same reason fortresses do in real life; they can stay put and life off their supplies for much longer than the attackers, who has to make some sort of lea way before they get tired. Sure it makes escaping harder, but unless someone really puts the efforts into blockading their little cove, they don't have to worry about a long drawn out siege. There's only one way to attack them, so the bandits can focus all their efforts into defending it. We just have to hope they're as incompetent as we want them to be.
I don't really have time to talk about all the things you said there that I disagree with you on, or the things you got flat out wrong. Suffice it to say, firstly, I am not imposing any of my ideas or impressions on Sarel at all, not to mention that I rather like most of the people in this RP. Secondly, I believe the entrance has already had the desired effect it was originally designed for, to offset the skills of our characters (not that I necessarily see an issue with that).
That being said, and hopefully finished, I'll have a post up within the day tomorrow.
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